


Angels in the Architecture

by LizBee



Series: Ashes of Gallifrey [2]
Category: Doctor Who
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-01
Updated: 2010-01-01
Packaged: 2017-10-06 00:38:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/47763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LizBee/pseuds/LizBee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As alternate realities merge, Martha calls the Doctor back to Earth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Angels in the Architecture

**Author's Note:**

> This is part of the sequence that began with "The Goddess Delusion" and continued with Vali's "Revelation of the Aubertides", although you don't need to have read those to follow this.
> 
> It is set after "Revelation of the Aubertides" in the Doctor and Romana's timeline, but before "The Sontaran Stratagem" in Martha's. Why yes, this was written in early 2008, why do you ask?
> 
> Back in 2007, when this was a virtual season project, the original version was written by Livii. Unfortunately, it turns out that I'm a fail!virtual showrunner, because I'd forgotten to tell her about some stuff she needed to throw in. And then, instead of doing a beta, I wound up emailing her and saying, "Actually, do you mind if I just rewrite this?" Which is bad fannish behaviour, but there you go. The heart of this fic -- Martha's relationship with Tom -- and much of the early dialogue are all Livii's contributions, along with the title. And I would like to take a moment and thank her for letting me take her story and run.

_They say that Martha Jones is going to save the world._They say that Martha Jones is going to save the world_._

Martha? His Martha, all contrasts, ambition and compassion, courage and regret? _She's going to save the world_.

"Martha."

There was no answer, just a rise in the wind and the sound of distant laughter. It sounded almost like a child, but the fear was rising. What kind of paediatrician was afraid of children? But he wasn't a nice middle class boy with a medical degree and a social conscience anymore, he was a refugee in his own country, a dying man in a waking nightmare—

He had forgotten that he was dreaming.

And there was a gun. In his hand.

And they were coming for him.

He started to walk – _don't run, you'll attract their attention_ – towards the classrooms, but the laughter was getting closer.

Their shadows were visible. He could glimpse them, out of the corner of his eye. No, no, he wasn't meant to die, he needed to meet Martha Jones – he needed to hear her stories.

He began to run.

And they were chasing him openly now, laughing and screeching, and the classrooms were so far away – but the shelter they offered was only an illusion, they'd follow him, they'd kill him – unless he killed them first—

Fishing in his pocket for ID, panting for breath, he said, "I'm Thomas Milligan, authorised itinerant medical – you mustn't kill me – I need – Martha Jones—"

His eyes were open, a voice was calling his name, a hand was on his shoulder. He was in his bed, in his home in London.  He was shaking, cold sweat covering his body.

"Tom?" Martha said. "Tom!"

"They say that Martha Jones is going to save the world," he said, and collapsed into her arms.

*

Romana woke up late. She'd been dreaming – oh, something silly, about swimming in an endless pool of water, diving deeper and deeper and never needing to come up for air. She'd been warm and safe, and blessedly alone. And then it had changed, and the water had become the vortex, and she a TARDIS, but the sensation of safety had lingered. As if she were in her natural habitat.

The curious thing was, it had felt more like a memory than a dream. Waking was the awful bit. Waking and remembering.

Dressed, she padded into the console room, only to find the Doctor slouching against the console, a million miles away.

"Good morning," she said, "relatively speaking, of course. Well, _I_ slept, anyway."

The Doctor merely frowned.

"Do you have any destination in mind, or are we just drifting? It's a bit ridiculous, but I rather fancy breakfast on Lunar Orbital Three. Do you remember, the little café with the remarkable bagels? Twenty-seventh century, I think it was."

She looked up at the Doctor, who merely nodded, lips pursed together tightly. He had a very faraway look in his eyes.

"Funny," she said, "it's usually me listening to meaningless prattle. I'll put the coffee on."

"No, no," said the Doctor quickly, "breakfast is fine, brilliant. Most important meal of the day.  Was that the place with the purple orange juice?"

"Yes, but I'll thank you not to make me look at it until _after_ I've eaten. It was a bit ... bright." Romana ran a hand over the console, remembering her dream. Slowly, she reached for the helmic regulator. Silence had descended once more, and it filled her with the dread of the withheld, the unknowable secret. She held her hand against the console. "Doctor," she said, distantly, "do you ever think about the War?"

"I try not to."

"I look back at the decisions I made, and I see how they ended, and I ... cannot quite bear it."

"You weren't to know." The Doctor put his hands in his pockets, looking at the console. "You weren't to know the Master would destroy Gallifrey."

"No," she said, "but that's hardly consolation." She looked away. "I suppose I might manage the purple orange juice," she said, trying to sound light. "Actually, I'd rather like a cup of tea. Did you know your TARDIS sings at night?"

"To you?" The Doctor looked disconcerted. "I thought -- well, obviously they were lying at the Academy when they said it was impossible for a TARDIS to bond to more than one Time Lord."

"Three impossible things before breakfast. Wasn't it you who told me that? You'll note that we keep returning to the subject of breakfast – a sort of cosmic hint, maybe." Romana shook her head, shaking cobwebs free. "Anyway, she's definitely singing; it's beautiful, really. Makes me feel so very far away…and just a little bit cold."

She frowned, but without malice, as there was a loud bang; the Doctor had hit the console again with his mallet, and the time rotor was now warming up.

"And then there's your approach," she said, smiling, "less of the arcane and ancient mysteries, more of the, um, brute force."

The Doctor, despite himself, grinned at her in return.

"Adventure awaits," he said, "well, breakfast – hang on, though–"

"Your trousers are ringing," Romana said. "This _is_ turning out to be an interesting morning."

 

*

"I can't," said Martha, snapping her phone shut and putting it down. "I'm sorry, Tom, but I just can't—"

She pushed her chair away from the table, feeling an irrational need to put as much distance between the phone and herself. Stupid. So stupid. Like the games Tish played with her anti-depressants, skipping a few days and letting the nausea and dizziness and dark moods remind her of why she had to take them in the first place.

"It's okay," said Tom, squeezing her arm. "Let UNIT handle it—"

"It's not okay," said Martha, signaling to the waitress for a refill on her latte. She flipped the phone open again, scrolled through her contacts at random and closed it again. "I don't want UNIT involved.  Actually, I kind of ... made sure they wouldn't be involved.  I sort of moved some files around. And deleted a few reports."

Tom's face was unreadable, but for a flicker of sympathy in his eyes.

"I just--" she struggled to find words. "He made them his own troops. Good men and women, doing unspeakable things against his will. Because it amused him to pervert UNIT, and_ – God_—" Martha's voice cracked, and she held her breath, willing the weakness to pass. The waitress returned, bearing a fresh cup of coffee. Tom accepted it, added sugar and pushed it into Martha's hands.

"I don't know what they'd do," she said at last. "And I don't want to take the risk." In a low voice she admitted, "it scares me."

"Me, too," said Tom.

Martha's hand strayed towards the phone again.

"If I call him," she said, "it'll just ... bring it all back."

"For him?" asked Tom, "or you?"

Martha smiled ruefully, and didn't answer. She sipped her coffee and looked around, seeing for the first time that it was a glorious Sunday morning, and the street was full of people – families, teenagers, rumpled couples with bed hair and eyes only for each other. This was good. This was the world she had saved.

A woman walked past, eyes distant as she listened to an iPod. Martha shifted, but too late: the woman's bag bumped her shoulder.

"Sorry," the woman said absently, then stopped and stared at Martha. "Martha Jones! I can see you!" Then she shook her head. "Sorry – I'm sorry – I didn't mean—"

Martha stared at the woman's hastily retreating back with something akin to horror on her face. She turned to Tom, whose shoulders were slumped. He took her hand.

"You should call him," he said.

"I know," Martha said.

She regarded her phone for a second, then flipped it open, punching in her old phone's speed dial code without a second thought. It rang, one, two, three times.

"Doctor?"

It was a woman's voice that answered. "We're on our way," she said. Before Martha had time to think of a response, the call had ended.

"Well?" said Tom.

"I don't—"

At that moment, the air seemed to slip sideways, and that noise – _that noise_ – filled her head. She jumped to her feet, following the noise. The blue box materialized across the road, partially concealed behind a stack of rubbish bins.  Martha's breath caught in her throat as the door opened.

"Hello," a small, blonde woman emerged from the TARDIS, looking over the bins with distaste. "You rang?" Dismissing the bins, she held out her hand with a wide smile. "You must be Martha Jones. I'm Romana, it's so nice to meet you."

"Likewise," Martha said, craning for a look over the other woman's shoulder, "I think." She was immediately rewarded as the Doctor's grinning face popped out.

"Martha!" He rushed over, sweeping her up in a hug, and swung an arm around her shoulder as they crossed the road, "Sorry I couldn't take your call, I was triangulating your location, and Romana was free – if unfed – sorry, yes, this is Romana, she's a friend – well – that's a long story, really – and who's this?" He was indicating Tom, who was staring at the Doctor with frank dislike on his face.

"Doctor Tom Milligan," he said, holding out his hand somewhat stiffly.

"Tom! Martha's Tom!" The Doctor almost embraced Tom, but settled for a hearty two-handed shake. Tom, despite himself, was softening; Martha could see a flicker of his usual good humour returning.

"I met Tom that year," Martha said. "And then I found him again."

"Yes, I know," said the Doctor. "You said—" He grabbed Martha's left hand, and his face fell. "Well," he said, "that's not right. Looks like—"

"Time's a bit funny," Romana interrupted. "It is, though, isn't it?" she asked, looking directly at Martha.

"It's like," Martha searched for the words, "it's like the timelines are bleeding. What didn't happen melting into what ... did." She looked around, at the people on the street, passing by, ignoring them. "A woman recognised me, Doctor. She _saw_ me."

"The air's full of chronon energy," Romana said, examining a heavy silver bangle whose engravings, Martha saw, were shifting, like a computer display. "She's very right, even if it's too complex for a human brain to properly comprehend. Where could it all be coming from?"

"What do you mean, 'she saw me'?" The Doctor asked Martha. "I'm seeing you right now."

"I mean, for just a few seconds, Doctor, this woman existed in another world. Where the human race were subjugated and dying, and where I should have been safely behind a perception filter."

The Doctor flinched, his gaze flickering towards Romana.

"Ah," he said slowly. "That's ... very bad." He withdrew the sonic screwdriver from his pocket, flicked it on and followed whatever signal it was picking up, looking more like an eccentric dowsing for water than a super-intelligent alien on a quest to save the planet. "Back in a moment," he called over his shoulder, "Romana, could you--?"

"I'm on my way," she said, turning towards the TARDIS.

Martha shrugged at Tom. "Come on," she said, taking his hand, "I've been wanting to show you this for _ages_."

Romana went inside without so much as a second glance behind her. Martha, after a second's hesitation, followed, and lingered in the entrance to watch Tom's face.

He stood in the doorway.  "That's unusual," he said mildly.

"Tom!"

"It's..." Slowly, he entered the TARDIS, reaching out to touch a pillar. "Is it organic?"

"Explaining the precise nature of a TARDIS would take more time than we have," said Romana without looking up from the console, "but the core is organic, yes." She swung the monitor around to face them. "This is the signal from the Doctor's sonic screwdriver," she said, pointing to an undulating line on the display, "and these," she pointed to the pulsating bursts of colour behind it, "are the radiation traces left by the dimensional distortions."

Martha nodded, watching Romana scribble pictograms on the display with the tip of a stylus. She was coming to a realisation that was unrelated to the mysteries of radiation signatures and alternate timelines.

"It's just one alternate timeline bleeding through to this dimension, thank heavens," said Romana, indicating the line of Gallifreyan numbers. "Otherwise, I expect this whole solar system would be uninhabitable by now. But one level of reality breaking down is quite bad enough."

"You have no idea," said Martha softly. "The labour camps – the disease – Japan, burning—" She felt Tom's hand on her shoulder, anchoring her to reality. "And above us all, watching, the Master_—_"

Romana's lips thinned, her face hardening for a moment. In another instant she was inscrutable once more, but Martha had already seen the look on her face, not only sorrow, but guilt.

But she had barely opened her mouth to say, _Who are you?_ when the Doctor returned. Bounding through the doors, he threw his coat over a railing, leapt up the ramp and said, "Right, I've got a source – well, sort of a source, more like a pointer leading to a source – a couple of possible sources, actually, and one's moving – it's a treasure hunt, more or less, only I don't think it's gonna be much of a treasure--"

"Doctor," said Romana quietly.

"--So we'll split up into pairs, you and me, Martha, let's put the band back together – Romana, you can take Tom, you like human men – well, you liked Duggan, not that Tom's hit anyone yet, anyway, we'll split up and follow the trails, find out what's happening—"

"Doctor!" said Romana, more sharply. "Doctor, we know what's happening. The latent timeline is bleeding through to this one – the two universes are merging."

The Doctor stopped, slowed. His hands flexed, twitching, until he shoved them into his pockets.

"I know," he said. "But I don't know _why_." He paced. "Time is—"

"Out of joint?" Tom suggested.

"Oh, I _like _you," said the Doctor. "Martha," he spun around, "Martha, Martha, Martha. We're out of sync, you and I."

"What do you mean?"

"This is the first time you've seen me since you left the TARDIS?"

She nodded.

"Well, not for me. It's been, oh, a good couple of years, more or less." He grinned. "You're going to be magnificent. But you don't need me to tell you that."

Martha smiled weakly, wishing for a fleeting moment that he'd said as much before – well, no point in trying to change the past.

"Point is," he continued, "the whole fabric of time and space around this point is distorted. Reality is like – like a piece of fabric that's stretched and torn, but also crumpled – I'm about to mix a metaphor—"

"How do we fix it?" Martha asked.

"Ah." The Doctor stopped. "Well, that's getting a bit ahead of ourselves. The first step is to find out what's causing it. _Then_ we save the world."

"The stable source is in a wooded area about six kilometres away," said Romana, touching the monitor and checking something on her bracelet. "I wouldn't risk taking the TARDIS any closer--"

"I'll drive," said Martha. "And the unstable source--"

"I'll go," said the Doctor.

Romana gave Martha a wry look.

"Tom," said Martha, "go with him. And take care." Of himself, or the Doctor, she wasn't sure. He squeezed her hand, and she kissed his cheek, suddenly wishing – that she was a different person, with a different life, and that this was just a normal Sunday morning in London.

But she wasn't, and it wasn't, and there was no point wishing otherwise. She left the TARDIS without looking at the Doctor, and headed for her car, Romana following behind.

*

"So," said the Doctor casually as he followed Tom to his car, "how did you and Martha meet?"

Tom gave him a brief, haunted smile. "In this world?" He unlocked the door, took his seat and concentrated for a few seconds too long on his seatbelt. "It was in Africa," he said. "There was a disease. That wasn't a disease."

"Microbial aliens. Nasty."

"Yeah. The fatality rate was..." A shadow crossed his face. "Anyway, we were told a specialist was being rushed in from the UK. Doctor Martha Jones." He smiled as he turned the ignition and pulled out of the parking space. "I was expecting someone older. Brisk, military and scary. And instead I got -- Martha."

They drove in silence for a few seconds.

"She was brilliant," Tom added. "Amazing. Not just as a doctor, she was so courageous. Is. Is so courageous. I admire that."

"Take the next left," said the Doctor.

Tom obeyed, and added, "After it was over -- after the funerals and the decontamination and the quarantine -- we all got drunk. Doctors, soldiers, civilians. We were drinking bad whisky and watching a Catholic priest dance the samba with a Methodist missionary, and she said -- she said, 'I know you, Tom Milligan'."

"This right turn up here. No, wait – keep going, take the left. It's moving."

"Little more warning next time," Tom murmured, changing lanes.

"I navigated for Émile Levassor," said the Doctor. "I mean, traffic was a bit lighter in 1895, and all the maps were in French, but still – I mean, right, interfaith sambas and bad whisky, what happened next?"

"I thought, this woman is the most beautiful person I've ever seen in my life, and she's a total nutter. So I asked her to dance."

"Brilliant," said the Doctor, unable to hide his grin. "Just brilliant."

"Yeah." The sour, distracted look had returned to Tom's face. "Maybe you could have told her that once in a while."

They drove on in silence for a few minutes.

Then the Doctor jumped

"Turn around," he yelped, "it's moving again – moving fast. East – no, north-east – they're heading for the stable source. Hurry!"

*

Martha drove drove at the top of the speed limit, changing gears and lanes with reckless abandon, but Romana never felt unsafe. Martha was too focused, too – alert.

"You're a Time Lord," she said in a low voice.

"I'm not like the Master," said Romana quickly. "I promise, whatever other faults I have--"

"You're not a genocidal psychopath?" Martha raised her eyebrows. "Well, that's a relief."

"I'm sorry," said Romana quickly – too quickly, she thought, but by now it was too late to stop, the words were spilling out – "it was my fault, you see – my idea to resurrect the Master. It was a desperate strategy, but I thought I could make it work. Brax – my friend – advisor – he said it was arrogance." She exhaled slowly, looking out the window, away from Martha. "The Doctor wouldn't even look at me." An echo of the old self-righteous anger rose its head, twisted now into grief and self-recrimination. "And they were right. The Master deserted at the first opportunity, and when he returned, it was to destroy Gallifrey."

She sensed Martha's eyes gazing at the back of her head, but she wasn't ready to look at her yet.

"In a way, everything he did on Earth was my fault, too." Romana held her breath for a second, then turned to Martha, but the human woman's attention was back on the road ahead. "I'm sorry."

Martha's hands tightened fractionally on the steering wheel. She said nothing. Ridiculous, Romana told herself, to expect something as absurd as absolution – from a woman she barely knew – Martha's face was unreadable, and the silence between them was growing heavy.

It was broken by the screeching of breaks, and Romana was thrown forward heavily as the car skidded to a stop. For a second, just a second, the universe had inverted itself, and they had been in a different place all together – the same place, a different world.

For a second, they just sat and breathed.

"It's okay," Martha said, more to herself than Romana, "it's okay, it was just a second."

"Less than that," said Romana, her voice shaky. Martha looked at her closely.

"Are you okay?" she asked, suddenly professional.

"Fine," said Romana. "That was unpleasant. Like going into freefall." She breathed deeply, suppressing the fear hormones surging through her body. "We must be getting close."

A Land Rover honked behind them. Martha put her car into gear and drove on.

"How much further?" she asked.

"A block. Take this left."

Romana didn't need to check her sensor to know when they'd reached the source. She could almost taste the chronon radiation in the air, and she could see that Martha, too, was aware of it.

"Here," she said, needlessly; Martha was already parking. They had arrived at a playground, deserted, despite the fine weather. Romana climbed out of the car, looking around. "They'll be hidden," she said, walking through the park. "Cloaked, or concealed, or--" She pulled her sonic screwdriver out of her pocket and flicked the switch.

With a shimmer, a ship revealed itself: anchored to the swings, hovering ten feet off the ground.

"Romana, look out!"

Martha's warning came too late; Romana had already caught a flicker of movement out of the corner of her eye, but by the time she tried to duck, the alien had raised its weapon and fired. At the same moment, Martha had run towards her, one hand closing around Romana's wrist—

Reality twisted and dissolved, and when Romana opened her eyes, they were in another world all together.

*

"That's Martha's car," said Tom, pulling up beside it. "Where is she?" He pulled his phone out of his pocket, but there were no missed calls.

"Tom," said the Doctor in a strangled voice, "there's a spaceship floating in mid-air in a playground."

"Yes, I know," said Tom patiently, "one spaceship – no Martha."

The Doctor was out of the car, looking around.

"There's a radiation spike here," he said, stopping near the swings. "Almost like," he sniffed the air, looking like a terrier Tom had once known, "someone fired a dimensional displacement weapon—" he whirled around and ducked, throwing Tom and himself down behind a plastic fort. "Right," he said, peeking over the top, "why do my Sundays always turn out like this?  And most other days, come to think of--"

"Humans!"

They froze.

"Turn slowly. Keep your appendages visible."

Tom and the Doctor exchanged a look, and obeyed.

Pinning them down was a woman – or at least, Tom thought she was a woman. She was tall and rather elegant, despite the strangeness of her scaled face and antennae. Most significantly, she was holding a weapon.

"Good morning," said the Doctor cheerily, "this is Doctor Tom Milligan, I'm the Doctor – just the Doctor – and we couldn't help noticing your lovely spaceship in this park. Folding warp drive, am I right? Drops out of real space and into the void between timelines? I've _always_ wanted to see one—"

"What would a human know of our technology?" She tilted her head. "Are you one of the ones they call 'Torchwood'?" She flicked a catch on her gun.

"No!" said the Doctor quickly, "no, no, wouldn't have anything to do with them. Nice enough in their own way, but not all that good with the bigger picture. And a folding warp ship, that's pure bigger picture – right, Tom?"

"Oh, sure," said Tom, dragging his eyes away from the alien weapon for a second. "Absolutely."

"So," said the woman, "who are you?"

"I told you. I'm the Doctor." He became stern, his jaw setting. "What have you done with our friends?"

"The females? They came in with their weapon, they disabled our cloaking device." Her reptilian tongue flicked in and out of her mouth. "They were dealt with by my sister-beings."

"Like you're going to deal with us?" Tom asked.

"Your ship is damaged," said the Doctor, "isn't it? That's why you're here. You've been scouting for supplies – and scattering chronon radiation all over the city, by the way. This planet's a red zone for weak points, and you're ripping straight through the fabric."

The alien said nothing.

"You're Hikari, aren't you? I can help you and your sister-beings repair your ship. If you leave soon, the damage can be reversed." The Doctor stopped, inhaling sharply. "Please," he said, "I'm giving you this chance."

"Warm-blooded lies," said the woman. "A universe of worlds, and we're surrounded by _mammals_." She took aim. "I've had enough of your prattle," she said, and fired.

*

For the longest moment, Martha thought it was another nightmare. The wreckage in the streets, the wanted posters pasted to the grimy walls of buildings that had once been offices and shops, but now housed labour parties and refugees.

"No..."

"Martha." Romana's voice was hard. "Martha, look at me."

She opened her eyes, forcing herself to breathe.

"I'm okay," she said, "I'm okay ... oh God."

Out on the street, wearing brightly coloured clothes, without her knife, without her perception filter--

"We need to get out of here," she said, pulling her mobile out of her pocket. "Are you carrying anything that'd be recognisable as human technology?"

"No."

"Good." Martha dropped her phone on the ground and reached for a brick. It only took a moment to destroy it, but she could already hear laughing voices in the distance.

"Naughty humans," one was saying, "Mister Master won't be happy!"

"Don't run," Martha whispered, easing back into an alley. There was a rusted skip a few feet in, overflowing with garbage. The whole area smelled strongly of rotting meat -- former pets, maybe, or worse. But the Toclafane were growing complacent, they would assume their prey had fled down the street, or into a building.

Still, she closed her eyes and held her breath until they were gone, willing herself to be invisible.

When they were alone again, Romana said, "This is the alternate timeline."

Martha nodded. "We've moved," she said. "I mean, we should be in the park."

"Dimensional disruptors," said Romana. "I suppose there's some geographic displacement."

"How do we get back?"

"I'm not sure yet," Romana admitted. She followed Martha's gaze, to the sky.

"He's up there," said Martha.

"The Master."

"And the Doctor." She crossed her arms, shivering.

The Toclafane voices had long faded into the distance. Martha stepped cautiously out of her hiding place. "There should be a safe house in Islington," she said. "It'll give us a place to think." She gave Romana a wry smile. "Hope you're up for a walk."

*

"Oh no."

For a few seconds that felt like an eternity, the Doctor was without words. He was flooded with impressions, not just of the drab cityscape around him, but the sense of time twisting around itself, the vast paradox that had created this timeline. He was dimly aware of the Master's presence, in the same way that he was aware of Romana: he couldn't hear their thoughts, or even sense their whereabouts, but they were alive, their pulses echoing in the very back of his mind.

"Yeah," said Tom, "that's about how I feel, too."

The Doctor hauled himself to his feet, and offered Tom a hand.

"Let's go," he said.

"Where?"

"Anywhere."

It wasn't just the Master and Romana, it was himself, too, a doubled presence.

Of course, it went both ways.

"The Master will know," he said urgently. "That's the thing about Time Lords, we're sensitive to each other -- not in the sense of being empathetic or anything, it's more like how you're trying to sleep, but you know there's a tap dripping in your bathroom, or a mosquito on the other side of the room. So I'm aware of the Master's presence--" A teasing, distracting tickle in his mind – "and he's probably aware of mine."

"Doctor, I really hope the next words out of your mouth are, 'Fortunately I can get us home with a flick of my sonic magic wand'."

Tom's light voice couldn't disguise the fear in his eyes, or the tension in his body. Before the Doctor could even begin to think of an answer, they were interrupted by the roar of an engine. Breaks screeched as a covered lorry skidded to a stop mere feet away from them, soldiers spilling from the back.

"Don't run," said Tom in a low voice. "They'll shoot us dead if we run."

"I know," said the Doctor, "I know."

The soldiers wore the uniforms of different nations, but they all had the same exhausted blankness about them. As if they had tried to fight the influence that turned them into weapons for a madman, and failed, and now they only had the strength to carry out their orders.

"Arrest them," said the commander.

"On what charges?" the Doctor demanded.

"Trespass in a restricted zone. Unauthorised absence from a work detail. Subversive loitering." There was a dim flicker of life in the woman's eyes as she added, "be glad it's us, not the Toclafane."

"I'm sorry," the Doctor murmured as he and Tom were shoved into the lorry.

Tom's gaze was distant.

"They say that Martha Jones is going to save the world," he said.

*

"May I borrow your jacket?"

Romana thought Martha must be cold – it was so difficult to tell sometimes with humans – but Martha added, "bright colours attract attention." She wrapped Romana's black coat around herself, concealing her burgundy shirt.

"Keep your eyes down," she added as they walked. "Don't run. It attracts attention – from humans, not just the Toclafane."

"Are there many informants?"

"Enough."

"I was in a Dalek slave camp once," said Romana. "This has much the same feel."

They avoided main streets and crowded places – two women on their own would stand out among work parties and soldiers. Some walls, in narrow alleys and empty streets, were covered in graffiti: anti-alien slogans, names of the missing and dead. Martha paused to look at it.

"Got a pen?" she asked.

"Here."

Martha wrote, _Believe in the Doctor_ in shimmering indelible Arfenian ink, and for a second she smiled.

"If something happens to change history," she said as they walked on, "like – I don't know, Lucy Saxon goes mad and shoots the Master six months early – that means the world we came from is gone, doesn't it? Because this year didn't happen, but at the same time, it's in my past."

"You have an exceptional grasp of temporal dynamics, for a human of your era."

"I was sort of hoping you'd say I was talking rubbish."

"Normally the web of Time itself would be flexible enough to compensate," said Romana. "History is mostly inevitable, provided you tweak it in the right places. But between the Hikari and the Paradox Machine—" Romana shrugged, willing herself not to look upwards. The Paradox Machine was a malevolent presence, a temporal cancer – or maybe that was just her imagination. "If we're careless," she said, "Earth will end up like Gallifrey. Nothing more than some half-remembered stories and a smear of dark matter."

A shadow passed in front of the sun: a military surveillance plane was flying low over the city.

"In here," said Martha, leading Romana into a shattered supermarket. "The planes carry cameras, and every image is cross-referenced against the military databases."

They waited, as the droning of the engines grew louder.

"Was that what you were doing when you resurrected the Master?" Martha asked suddenly. "'Tweaking history'?"

"Who better than a sociopath to fight an enemy like the Daleks? Or so I thought." Romana leaned against a melted plastic-and-metal slab that had once been a check-out. "The Doctor accused me of having a god-complex."

Martha snorted.

"Well ... I'm paying for my misjudgment now."

"We all are," said Martha.

Romana looked away, staring blankly a the wreckage around them. The store had been emptied of consumables; only a few household objects remained on the shelves. Even the fixtures had been looted: one barcode scanner was in pieces, primitive computer parts exposed—

"Oh." Romana straightened up, suddenly excited. "Martha, I'm having an idea. I'm having _such_ an idea."

"The Toclafane can detect human technology," Martha warned, following her gaze.

"Not if I reverse the field polarity and mute it – like a silencer on a gun—" Romana was busy pulling the scanner apart. She pulled her bangle from her wrist, examined a couple of wires and shook her head. "Go through the store, round up any technology you can find – and wire, I'll need some wire, this stuff's no good -- and maybe some string – and pliers!"

"Is this a cultural thing for Time Lords, ordering the primitives around, or did you pick it up from the Doctor?"

"Sorry?" Romana asked, pushing her hair out of her face, but Martha had already gone, and whatever she'd said was lost.

*

"Turn out your pockets."

Tom obeyed. He'd been through this in Africa; it wasn't worth risking death or a beating over his wallet and car keys. His cash vanished into the officer's pocket. She sneered at the credit cards.

In one pocket of his wallet, Tom carried a photo of Martha. The commander tapped it with a dirty fingernail.

"Pretty girl," she said.

Tom said nothing.

The woman withdrew the photo. Scrawled on the back was a name: _Martha_. She nodded in satisfaction and reached for her radio.

"Base Six, this is Osprey. I've picked up a Code Four."

There was an answering crackle.

"I'll notify the _Valiant_."

"Belay that. We can handle this on Earth. Set up an interrogation centre." She closed the connection and turned to the Doctor. "Your turn."

The Doctor sighed.

"Right," he said, withdrawing a yo-yo and some loose change from his coat and dropping them on the waiting tray. These were followed by a water pistol, a ballpoint pen, a Geiger counter, a pencil stub with an IKEA logo, two marbles, a paperback copy of _Murder Must Advertise_, a mobile phone, a monogrammed handkerchief, a shoelace—

"Stop," ordered the officer. "Is this a joke?"

"Do you feel like laughing?"

"He," she pointed at Tom, "is going to be executed for supporting a dangerous terrorist. _You_ might go the same way, just for pissing me off."

"Hardly fair, is it?" said the Doctor, "I mean, it's a funny old world. Captain Price – it is Captain Price, isn't it? I feel like I met you once, maybe in another world—"

"I could have you shot right here," she said.

"But you won't." The Doctor grinned. "I have lots of things in my pockets, Captain, and one of them's a neat little device that immobilises projectile weapons. Picked it up on Sontar recently."

Price pulled the gun from her holster.

"Go on," said the Doctor. "Shoot me."

"I could summon the Toclafane," she said.

"But you won't. Because you're scared." The Doctor held out his hand. "I'd be scared. You've had an alien madman controlling your mind. Your body and your world, they've been taken over."

"Sometimes I wake up," said Price softly, "and I don't know who I am."

"You're a soldier. You follow orders."

She shook her head.

"That's not enough," she said.

Gently, the Doctor plucked the gun from her fingers. In a single expert motion he emptied the magazine and threw the weapon aside.

"Your soldiers," said the Doctor, nodding at the front cabin.

"They follow my orders," said Price.

"We need to get across the city as fast as possible."

As Price conveyed these instructions, Tom said quietly, "Do you really have a thing that disables guns?"

"Of course," said the Doctor, looking offended.

"Sorry, I just—"

"You think I'd bluff with our lives like that?"

The answer was yes, but Tom didn't like to say it.

"I'm not sure it works, though," the Doctor added. "I keep forgetting to test it.

*

"The Hikari have to exist in this timeline, too," said Romana, working feverishly. "That's the nature of their ship – could you strip these wires, please?" She threw a universal remote control at Martha. "If I can track down their ship – immobilise their weapons – then all we need to do is destroy it, and we'll be back in our own timeline.  I think."

"And you think you can do all that with a hotted-up remote control," said Martha.

"Well," Romana looked at the sea of wires, computer parts, SIM cards and batteries spread across the scanner belt. "I'm rather clever, you know."

Martha decided not to dignify this with a response.  They worked in silence together for a while.

"Tell me," Martha said, as Romana fitted together the final parts of her tracker, "how'd you survive the Time War?"

Romana was silent, and Martha didn't think she was going to answer. And she wouldn't have blamed her – then Romana took a breath.

"It was luck," she said slowly. "Good luck, I think. Isn't it good, to survive?"

She sounded wistful and old, maybe even older than the Doctor.

"Yes," said Martha, and met Romana's eyes, daring her to say something about short-lived humans. But Romana merely nodded.

"I just ... can't forget what I've done." Her gaze took in the wreckage of the world around them. "What I'm responsible for."

Martha opened her mouth, then stopped. It was just supposition, no need to share—

"There," Romana held out the tracker. "Finished."

"Will it work?"

"Good question."

Romana hit the central button, and the scanner hummed then began to beep. The little display, ripped out of an old mobile phone, flickered to life, streams of numbers flying across the screen.

"Brilliant," said Romana, "if I do say so myself."

"And you do."

"False modesty is unbecoming."

They began to walk, keeping to close to shadows and buildings.

"Tell me," said Romana, "how did the Master survive?"

"That's a long story," said Martha.

"We have a long walk," said Romana. "So ... tell it."

Martha smiled briefly, thinking of the year she'd spent walking and telling stories, and the six months between then and now, that already felt like nothing more than a pleasant dream.

Then she began to talk.

*

They abandoned Price's soldiers at the nearest lookout, Tom and the Doctor keeping low as Price gave her orders. Then they drove at random, finally stopping in an empty street. It wouldn't be long before the soldiers realised something had gone wrong, and Price was determined to be ready.

"What we need to do," said the Doctor, sonicking the truck's military scanner, "is find the Hikari ship, deactivate their weapons and repair their ship. Then – whoomp! We're back in the real world."

"You mean, all this would be over?" asked Price.

"Like it never happened," the Doctor promised.

"Doctor," Tom turned from his lookout point, a few feet from the truck, "incoming." He sprinted back, diving into the truck and pulling the door closed behind him as Price gunned the engine.

"Toclafane," she said as she drove. "We won't be able to outrun them."

"We don't have to." The Doctor leaned past Tom, brandishing the screwdriver. "Please keep all limbs inside the vehicle." And he flicked a switch, and an eerie blue glow enveloped the truck.

A Toclafane struck the roof – Tom ducked reflexively – but there was an electronic crackle, and an angry screech, and the sphere pulled away.

"That'll get their attention," said Price.

"I know. Calculated risk." The Doctor leaned forward, his hearts pounding. "We need to hurry."

*

The story of Malcassario, and Professor Yana, the _Valiant_ and the Year That Never Was took Romana and Martha across suburbs. Romana let Martha tell it at her own pace, without interruption.

They had walked for over an hour by the time Martha was finished, and it was another twenty minutes before Romana felt able to speak. She listened to the tread of their footsteps on the ground, and thought about the curious nature of trust among Time Lords. She had grown accustomed, on assuming the presidency of Gallifrey, to negotiating a labyrinth of lies, but she'd thought—

At last she said, "Tell me again what the Doctor said, when the Master took control of the TARDIS."

"I was on the other side of the room," said Martha, "and there was a lot going on."

"Tell me."

Martha looked away. "He said something like ... 'It's different now, they're all gone now'. Like he was asking for friendship."

"Does that sound like someone speaking to the man who destroyed his planet and civilisation?"

"No," Martha said flatly. "And," she met Romana's eyes, "I had time to think, walking around the Earth. Do you know, the only time the Doctor ever lied to me was about his home world."

Romana looked away, unwilling to be the object of Martha's pity.  It made no difference -- it made every difference -- every person the Master had killed since his resurrection was on her conscience, but Gallifrey--

"I think I'm going to be sick," she said, sinking to her knees.  It took all of Romana's self-control to suppress the nausea that welled up within her._ Purely psychosomatic_, said the rational part of her mind, _and histrionic to boot_.  But she couldn't seem to stop shaking.

"We can't stop," Martha murmured, crouching beside her, "we need to keep moving."

"I know," said Romana, swallowing.  "I know--"

It was too late.  Overhead they could hear the Toclafane descending -- and above that, drowning out all other sounds, a helicopter hurtling to the ground.

"Do we run?" Romana shouted.

"Too late!" Martha answered, as the Toclafane surrounded them.

The helicopter landed further down the deserted street.  A squad of armed guards emerged, their red berets shockingly bright in the bleak urban landscape.

"Oh no," Martha was saying, "oh no, no, no..."

The Master approached.  Romana climbed unsteadily to her feet.  Fear and anger were retreating, replaced by a cold certainty.  She took Martha's hand in hers.

"Don't worrry," Romana said, "I know what to do now."

*

Tom held his breath as they approached the park.  All around the truck, the Toclafane howled.  They'd learned not to touch the vehicle, but they knew their prey had to emerge sooner or later.

So much for being inconspicuous.

The park, in this universe, was an empty, muddy block.  A few twisted pieces of metal were all that remained of the playground equipment.  There were no trees.  No grass.  A dead space.

"Now what?" Price asked as they drew closer.  "Got any more brilliant ideas?"

"No," said the Doctor.  "Just blind hope.  Keep driving."

"I don't see these aliens of yours," said Price.

"You will," the Doctor promised, "and so will the Toclafane."

The truck shook as it mounted the kerb.  

"Doctor," warned Tom, "the Hikari ship--"

"Straight ahead, Captain Price," said the Doctor.

"What is this, brinksmanship?" Tom asked.

"Something like that.  The enemy of my enemy is--"

There was a blinding flash, and the Toclafane vanished, their screams echoing around the empty lot.  The Hikari ship was visible, now, only metres away.  Price hit the breaks, swearing.  They skidded to a stop, spraying mud over the alien vessel.

"Sorry," said the Doctor.  "Didn't think they'd let us get this close."  He opened the door.  "_Allons-y_?"

"I'll give you_ allons-y_," Tom muttered.

"Mammals!" hissed the Hikari leader.  "Worse than vermin!  When will you learn to keep away?"

"I'm a bit slow," said the Doctor.

"You thought we were intimidated by your weapons?" The Hikari indicated the air formerly occupied by the Toclafane.

"Not my weapons," said the Doctor, rocking back and forth on his heels.  "They wanted to kill me, as a point of fact, so I'm rather grateful you, uh--" he paused.  "You didn't chuck them into another universe, did you?  'Cos cleaning that one up will be--"

"They were vaporised," said the Hikari.  "As we clearly should have done to you at the start."

She raised her weapon.

"Hang on, hang on," said the Doctor.  "I don't want to harm you, but I need your ship off this world."

"We are," said the Hikari, in the tone one might use to communicate with a child or an idiot, "trying."

"Yes," said the Doctor, "and a very fine job you're doing, only this world and the space around it is being destroyed in the process.  And Earth," he dropped his voice, "cannot be collateral damage."

"Threats, mammal?"

"Just a statement of fact."  He was rocking on his heels again.  "I'm offering you my help," he said.  "In spite of my, um, mammalian limitations.  For the survival of your people and this world."

"You are a persistent warm-blood, aren't you?" she was beginning to sound amused.  "Well--"

But her words were drowned out by the sound of an approaching helicopter.

*

The cockpit was almost silent -- alien technology, Martha guessed, no plebeian engine noises for the ruler of Earth.

He sat in the middle, an absent smile playing around his mouth.  Romana sat by his side; the Master's hand was in her hair, brushing the back of her neck.  She gave no reaction.

"Must be a slow day," said Martha, "arresting us yourself."

He smiled, and went on playing with Romana's hair.

"What will the Doctor say, I wonder, when I bring you to him?"  He was, Martha realised, talking about the Doctor of this timeline, the prisoner on the _Valiant_.  Romana said nothing.

"As for Martha, I think a public execution is in order.  I wonder what that will do to the woman from this timeline, I wonder?"  He caught Martha's flinch and grinned.  "I know all about it, Martha -- the Hikari ship, the universes.  Your world, hanging by a thread."

"Yours, too," said Martha.  "How'd you find us, anyway?"

Romana stirred at last.  "We're telepaths," she said.  "Not thought readers, but strong enough."  She looked at the Master, her face unreadable.  "Bit of a poor show, by your standards.  The problem with conquering a planet is sticking around and running it.  I didn't think you cared for that sort of thing."

"I have a higher purpose."

"Making the Doctor suffer?"

"I'm going to create a new Gallifrey," the Master told her.  "And with a Hikari ship, my empire will span multiverses."  He leaned forward, his face alight with anticipation.  "Oh, look," he said, as the helicopter descended, "we're here!"

Martha's knees felt like liquid as she got to her feet.  A guard held a gun to her back, but he might have been a million miles away.  It was people that scared her.  People for whom she feared.  Tom...

She was first out of the helicopter, and found herself facing what looked like a stand-off, interrupted.  The Hikari.  Captain Price, looking unhappy and resolute.  The Doctor.  And-- she felt a weight lift off her shoulders as her eyes met Tom's.  He managed a smile, small but unmistakable.  Wry, despite his visible fear.  He was strong.  Always strong.

The Doctor was looking past her.  At Romana and the Master.  Searching, Martha realised, for some sign of acknowledgment from Romana, but -- Martha dared to look behind her -- Romana's gaze was distant.  

"Martha."  Tom touched her hand, squeezing her fingers.  "Thank God."

"Everything's going wrong," Martha said.

"I know."

"So."  The Master looked jubilant.  "Doctor."

"Listen," said the Doctor, "the Hikari ship is on the verge of implosion, and if it goes, Earth goes.  Across the multiverses."

"That," said Romana, "is somewhat debatable."

"Romana," the Doctor was circling her, heedless of the armed guards around them, "you're not -- you haven't--"

"Allied myself with the Master?"  Romana looked at him for the first time.  "He's not the man who destroyed Gallifrey."

The Doctor faltered.  Martha had seen him desperate before, and trapped, but never defeated.  Not like this. 

"What would you do with him?" Romana asked the Master, nodding at the Doctor. "Kill him?"

"I already have the Doctor.  This one's a spare."  He gave Romana a puzzled look.  "Isn't killing him a bit mundane?"

"Only if you're a sadist."

"Romana," the Doctor said, "please."

"Let Martha and Tom go," Romana said to the Master.

"_What_?"  The Master shot Martha a look of pure venom.  "That _child_ thinks she can defeat _me_."

"Doesn't think.  Knows."

"Romana--"

She rounded on the Doctor and said in a harsh, low voice, "Don't speak to me.  All your lies -- don't speak, Doctor."

"You'd sacrifice Earth for revenge?"  The Doctor sounded heartbroken.  Heartsbroken. 

Romana turned back to the Master.  "If you destroy the Hikari ship, the shockwave will echo through your Paradox Machine and open a dimensional rift."

"Romana!" shouted the Doctor, but the Master was raising his laser screwdriver.

"No!" shrieked the Hikari leader, "warm-blooded treachery--!"

She was advancing on the Master.  Tom let Martha's arm go as he ran towards her -- a guard was raising his gun--

The Master flicked a switch.  Romana smiled.  The laser screwdriver emitted a flash.

The Doctor was shouting.  At the Master?  At Romana?  Energy crackled around the Hikari ship.  The wind was rising--

Two shots were fired.

Tom launched himself at the Hikari, throwing her aside as a red stain spread across his thigh.  Arterial blood, Martha thought.  She no longer had the breath to scream.

Captain Price's bullet took the Master in the chest.  Her next was aimed at Romana, but the world was going white and dissolving.

Martha's hand closed around Tom's as the world vanished.

"I love you," she said.

*

In the space of a blink, the world had changed.  The Doctor absorbed it all in an instant: the park, the Hikari, the remnants of their ship.  Tom, bleeding in Martha's arms.  Romana.

"Doctor," said Martha, "call UNIT.  Request an ambulance and a clean-up crew.  Top priority."  She summoned Romana to her side with a sharp nod.  "Maintain pressure on the wound," she ordered.  Rising to her feet, Martha addressed the Hikari leader.

"That man," she said, pointing at Tom, "could die because he saved your life.  So you owe me, and this is what's gonna happen.  My people are going to come out here for salvage and damage control.  You're going to co-operate.  Then you can send a distress signal, and we'll give you a place to stay until your rescue comes.  Is that acceptable?"

The Hikari said, "You have my word, on behalf of my sister-beings.  The mammalian male did a noble thing."

"Yeah," said Martha, "that's the sort of guy he is."

"UNIT's on their way," the Doctor told her.

"Good."  Martha returned to Tom.  He stirred, smiling up at her.

"Martha," he said.

"Don't try to talk."

"No.  Have to -- Martha."  He reached for her hand.  "Marry me," he said.

She was laughing, but there were tears in her eyes. 

"Now?"

"Soon.  I want -- I need."  He stopped.  "I love you."

Martha kissed his fingers.  "We'll talk about this when you're not bleeding out," she said.

Romana moved away to give them some privacy.  The Doctor hesitated a moment, then followed.

"You bluffed the Master," he said.

"It was a calculated risk," she said, looking past him. "Destroying the Hikari ship would either disrupt the multiverse, or shock it into stabilising.  Built-in failsafe.  His world was based on a paradox.  It couldn't survive."

"He didn't know that?"

"Apparently not."  Romana smiled to herself.  "The psychological profiles said he was less than proficient at long-term planning.  I gambled that he didn't fully underestand the Paradox Machine.  I did say it was a calculated risk."

"Um -- and about--"

Romana's face hardened.  "Don't," she said, turning away from him.

In the distance, sirens were wailing.

*

Martha left the UNIT hospital two days later, and found the TARDIS waiting outside.  She fished her key out of her pocket, smiling.

"You're making the guards nervous," she told the Doctor.

"Are they going to start shooting at me?"

"No, but they might ask you for an autograph."

The Doctor laughed, but the smile didn't quite reach his eyes.

"How's Tom?" he asked, at the same time as Martha said, "Where's Romana?"  They paused.

"Tom's recovering," said Martha, when it became apparent that the Doctor wouldn't speak.  "He lost a lot of blood, and the bullet struck his femur, but he'll be okay.  If he doesn't go crazy first.  Doctors, you know."  The Doctor looked blank.  "They make the worst patients," she explained.

"And, um," he took her left hand, holding it up so her ring would catch the light.  "You accepted?"

"A man who'll risk his life for an alien who's only caused him grief?"  Martha shook her head.  "And _he_ admires _me_."

"Well, he should.  You're extraordinary."

Martha fiddled with the ring.  It had been Tom's great-grandmother's.  One day, maybe some descendant would present it to a girl, saying, _It belonged to my great-grandmother.  She was a doctor, you know_...

"Next time we run into each other," said the Doctor, in a more business-like tone, "you'll call me -- you'll know when you need me.  Anyway, you're going to get a slightly earlier version of me, so -- don't let on, eh?"

"You really think I can fool you?"

"You already have."

"Right."  Martha grinned.  "You're not going to give me a script, are you?  Like Sally Sparrow and her folder?  Because that would be weird."

"No," said the Doctor, "no script.  Just -- you know.  Try to look surprised at all the surprising bits."

"Right," said Martha.  "So where's Romana?"

"In her rooms."  The Doctor's face became closed and sad again.  "She hasn't come out since ... well."  He put his hands in his pockets.  "Yes. That."

"Do you want me to talk to her?" Martha asked.

"Would you?"

She held up a hand.  "You might not like what I say."

"No, but," he rubbed the back of his neck, looking small and sad, "you're always honest."

Martha couldn't think of anything to say that would assuage his guilt.  She wasn't sure she wanted to.  She squeezed his arm, and went in search of Romana's rooms.

She took it as a good sign that the TARDIS allowed her to find them within minutes.  Even better when Romana responded to her knock and invited her in.  She found Romana sitting on the floor in the centre of a room decorated in cool mauves.  Before her, on a small table like a shrine, was a rock the size of Martha's forearm, suspended in liquid.

A rock?  No, Martha realised, it was more like coral.  TARDIS coral.

Romana followed her gaze.

"A TARDIS is always grown within another TARDIS," she said.  "It learns from the older model.  Like a child, really.  The process normally takes thousands of years, but I shatterfried the plasmic shell and modified the dimensional stabiliser. It will be fully grown by the time I'm in my third millennium."

"That's a long time to be with the Doctor," said Martha.

"There are other ways to speed the process up.  But I can't leave it."  She looked at Martha.  "Do you think I should leave?"

"I would," said Martha.  "I mean -- I _did_.  And it was hard, and I missed him, but I had my family, and my own life."

"He is my family," said Romana.  Off Martha's look she added, "not literally.  Although -- one day I'll tell you about his brother.  But he might as well be family."

"Can't choose 'em," said Martha. 

"Do you think I should forgive him?"

"Can you?"

"I don't know," Romana admitted.  "I need time."

"No shortage of that around here."

Romana smiled.  "True."

Silence fell between them.  Martha didn't linger.  She found the Doctor in the console room, looking eager, fearful and curious all at once.

"Time," Martha said.

He nodded.

"Oh, and Doctor?" Martha lingered in the doorway, on the cusp between old life and new.  "Thank you."

He offered her a wry, messy salute.  She felt his eyes follow her as she went out into the sunlight, but she didn't turn back until she heard the grind of the dematerialisation circuit.  She watched the TARDIS vanish, then made her way back into the hospital, to Tom.

 

 

end


End file.
